


like maybe you are magic

by qbrujas



Series: blades appreciation week 2021 [1]
Category: Blades of Light and Shadow (Visual Novel)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Female Human MC, magic and the sharing of it, post-book 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qbrujas/pseuds/qbrujas
Summary: Nia and Tyril had taught her, taught her how to reach for magic within and without, how to extend it and project it and hold it in her hands—this was surely not, couldn’t be too different from that.Magic is will made real.Tyril’s words, echoing in her mind.(or, Mal and Reva and the sharing of magic)
Relationships: Mal Volari/Main Character (Blades of Light and Shadow)
Series: blades appreciation week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159646
Kudos: 1





	like maybe you are magic

It was Reva who led them to the caves.

Both she and Mal were unfamiliar with these woods, the ones they’d been exploring for the past day and a half—even their name had somehow evaded them, tried as they had to find out as they passed the nearby villages.

Reva was unfamiliar with this entire area of Morella, in truth, as was the case with much of the kingdom—that was neither unexpected nor new (her knowledge had been steadily improving, but there was _so very much_ to learn still). It had taken Mal half a day, however, to admit to not knowing where he was, and only after hours of Reva’s teasing and needling he'd confessed.

(Not that she’d _needed_ the confession to know the truth; or that he’d even expected to deceive her in the first place. It was only a matter of pride.)

Even so, unfamiliar as they were with the area, there was a pull that Reva had felt ever since they had crossed the treeline—and the only reason they hadn’t left the woods yet. Something like a thread of gold tugging at her, invisible currents and tides in the air that guided her further and further in. And in the depths of the woods, it was her woodslore skills that told her the rest of what she needed to know: there was a water source nearby, somewhere underground.

And still that thread pulled and pulled and pulled.

(She’d felt something like it when they’d met the voxper in the Deadwood, though she hadn’t recognized it then, inexperienced as she had been.)

Mal didn't question it, her drive to follow and find the source of it—he never did, not when he saw the determined look in her eyes and the purposeful stride of her movements, the way she always acted when she sought something, when she sensed something.

He was curious, too. Intrigued, even if he couldn’t feel what she felt.

It was high noon when they found the entrance, low in the ground, half-hidden by underbrush and overgrowth. Unassuming, inconspicuous—it seemed so easy to ignore and so undisturbed Reva was sure no living being had stepped inside in gods know how long.

“Can you hear that?” Reva asked, more out of habit than anything, but she was starting to learn the difference now. The difference between the sounds she could _hear,_ that anybody could hear, and the things she could sense that only _seemed_ like sounds to her because she had no other words to describe them.

“I hear water,” Mal said after a moment.“You hear something else, don’t you?”

He was starting to get used to it, too.

Reva nodded. She did hear the water, the flow of it running further ahead in the caves—but that wasn’t what she’d meant at all. There was, like the golden thread, the faintest sound of something she could only imagine as silver bells (and she had never heard silver bells before, but the thought came to mind and seemed to fit).

A vibration in the air that made her skin prickle and raise into gooseflesh.

He followed, close by, as she led them deeper into the cave—close, always close, trailing behind her with a hand on her back and his presence a steady comfort next to her.

(Steady. Reliable. It was the last thing she would have called him, back when she'd first met him—she'd called him out on it, even. And yet, now—)

“Kit, are you sure—” Mal started, after a good while of walking (and he had never stopped calling her this, not after months and months, but she barely noticed it anymore), but Reva only shushed him, trying not to lose the sound of the bells.

She was vaguely aware of his pouting, but he didn't say anything else, and she was too focused on following the trail of this thing that _called_ to her.

He still followed her, curious, and she knew—she knew he would follow her anywhere, as she would follow him anywhere, as she _had_ followed. Even if it meant not having a place to settle, even if it meant narrow escapes and having to hide, sometimes, having to run. Reva was a practiced liar and an even better charmer, after all, and the thrill of adventure had always called to her—but it felt different with him, somehow.

They walked on, their steps leading them down, down, down; the air humid and cool, darkening as they walked deeper inside. The cave turned as it descended, dark and damp, but the pull of that golden thread grew ever stronger, and there was a scent in the air, too—something that almost felt metallic.

The bow of Gal’dariel almost seemed to hum in response, strapped to Reva's back, and a brewing tension coiled within her.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of walking but was probably closer to minutes, the tunnel started to grow wider and the sound of the water louder than the rest of them. A hint of light seemed to filter from further ahead; Reva and Mal exchanged a look and pressed on.

The tunnel led into a small but open space—the walls curving towards the low ceiling, and in the center of it, a small blue lake, nearly (but not quite) sparkling, nearly (but not quite) glowing.

They had seen something like this in the Deadwood, but it was so much _stronger_ here, so much _purer._ It was almost overwhelming and made the blood in Reva’s veins want to sing.

* * *

“You won’t join me?” she’d asked, and that was all it took.

Armor and clothes set aside (and she would never get tired of the sight of him, like this), they stepped into the water together, waist-deep—Reva had expected it to be cool as the air around them, but it was warm, almost unnaturally so. As soon as it touched her skin she felt a burst of energy around her, small explosions on her skin that tingled and tickled, not unpleasantly. Magic, pure and raw, stronger and more concentrated than she had ever felt it.

It passed through her like a conduit, warming her skin, her body from the inside; almost as though it replaced the blood in her veins with pure Light.

“You can’t feel it, can you?” Reva asked, turning to look at Mal, though the answer was obvious. She could feel the flow and the current now that it had settled into her, how it reverberated in the cave and dipped back into the water—and how it ignored him, weaved around him without touching him at all.

(It was the strangest thing, something she could both see and not see, something that could not be described with words but she knew it was there, all the same.)

“Not much. I can feel there’s something about this place,” he said, shaking his head. And that much was true, reflected in the way his usual demeanor had fallen into something quieter, admiring. “Aside from the glowing water. But that’s all I’ve got.”

How odd that was—the pure essence of this place seemed steeped in magic and Reva couldn't imagine how it would feel, how it _look_ without it.

She wondered if—

“I want to try something,” she said, suddenly.

Mal raised an eyebrow at her, but any comment he might have thought to make seemed to die on his lips at the unusual expression on her face, replaced by something both like tenderness and apprehension.

He looked unsure—as he did often when around magic and especially when Reva’s own use of magic was concerned—the conversations with Nia and Tyril about Light and years and time no doubt present on the back of his mind.

But here, in a place like this, she wouldn't have to draw from her own Light. The air was brimming with it and she felt charged—it almost felt like a _waste_ not to use the magic for something, as though it was itself asking to be spent, having been trapped in this underground cave, building and building for gods know how long.

“Please,” Reva said, and this too was unusual—unusually gentle, unusually quiet. An idea had taken root in her mind and she wanted to, _wanted to_.

Mal eyed her for a moment longer, amber eyes narrowing minutely before he nodded.

(He would always put his trust in her, without fail.)

She took her hands in his then, warm and calloused and he relaxed immediately at the touch of her fingers.

Nia and Tyril had taught her, taught her how to reach for magic within and without, how to extend it and project it and hold it in her hands—this was surely not, couldn’t be too different from that.

 _Magic is will made real_. Tyril’s words, echoing in her mind.

Will made real.

So she willed it.

She closed her eyes and reached, felt— _saw,_ saw with her mind as clearly as she saw Mal himself, as she saw the water and the cave walls—the golden threads of energy around them, swirling and delicate. She willed them to curve into her, into her body and out through her hands.

She felt resistance, too—as though the magic did not _want_ to extend out of her body and into Mal’s (and magic has a will of its own, she had learned, independent of hers and what she would wish it to do. Especially in a place like this).

He repelled it, his body repelled it, but she insisted, coaxed it—focused on the warmth of his hands as they grasped hers tightly. A different warmth, solid and soothing instead of wild and unpredictable.

Different, but not incompatible.

That was the thought she focused on.

Her eyes still closed, she knew it was working when she heard him gasp. She smiled, but did not dare look yet—focused on holding the magic together just a little longer, extending her will so it enveloped them both, together.

The sight of him when she opened her eyes almost took the breath out of her.

The soft glow from the water, which had avoided him until then in all but reflection, bathed him now—bronze skin gleaming and highlighted, features alight.

But even more than that, it was the look on his face that made her heart beat faster—almost boyish in its awe and wonder (and she thought she must have looked much the same the first time he showed her the sea in Port Parnassus), eyes wide and his mouth silently parted as he stared at her, tightening his grip on her hands.

Reva’s smile grew—a small amount of pride swelling in her at being able to show him something for the first time, as he had done so many times now—in the time they'd been traveling together he had never made her feel lesser for her lack of knowledge about the kingdoms, but there were few things he had not experienced.

“And now?” she prompted, quiet, almost too quiet but this seemed a precious moment and she wouldn't risk breaking it.

He was still looking at her, a smile spreading on his lips but instead of speaking he laughed, something like a sharp exhale, breathless and delighted—and not a second later he leaned forward, sure not to break the contact between them.

He let go of one of her hands, raised his own to cup her cheek, the back of her neck (and _oh_ , the touch felt like sparks dancing on her skin, his fingers and the magic flowing back into her)—and then he was kissing her, and she knew nothing else: magic flowing freely now between them through every point where his skin touched hers, his lips softer than they’d ever been, his hand on her waist and hers in his hair; golden threads, silver bells, all of it enveloping them.

When they parted and she opened her eyes—when had she closed them?—the hum was dimming, the light around them back to what it had been when they first entered the cave, but the light spark of energy still lingered under her fingers where they rested on his cheek.

Mal’s eyes were still closed, and he let out a low, appreciative whistle. Reva laughed, still a little giddy.

“I had to pay you back for the sea somehow,” she said lightly, the tinge of laughter still in her voice, breathless as she was.

“Ah, _that's_ what this was?” he replied, opening his eyes. There was a softness to them that wasn't new, had nothing to do with the air around them or the water or the flow of energy that passed between them. It was something entirely earthly, fully _him,_ and it still made her breath catch and her heart beat faster whenever she saw it.

“Are you ever going to stop surprising me, kit?”

“Not if I can help it, no.”


End file.
